Maybe This Time
by Musetta
Summary: Cabaret movie fic set right after the movie ends...ok, this is FINALLY coming together! I promise...please R&R and let me know what you think! (I'm open to suggestions!)
1. chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Cabaret. I don't know exactly who does (maybe Kander & Ebb, or maybe Bob Fosse, or maybe even Liza Minnelli) but it is definitely NOT me. I'm just an obsessed fan. Thank you.

Dedication: To the 54 gang, without whose words of encouragement…sappy stuff, sappy stuff, etc. Love and kisses from the "Italian" midget.

And now for my story…

The train pulled away, right on schedule, not missing a beat. She had watched it for as long as she could, half-expecting it to stop, expecting him to come running back to her, pick her up, and carry her off. She had thought briefly about going back with him, but that would have been too much trouble. Besides, if he had wanted her there, he would have said something. Wouldn't he? Walking home, she could not stop thinking about him. Them. Him. Each place she passed was somewhere they had been together. A restaurant where they had eaten, a park bench where they had sat. She remembered everything. A train whistle sounded in the distance and she thought of how ironic it was, really--the train had brought them together, and the train had taken him away. Or, rather, she had driven him away. She knew it was her fault. She knew it, she knew she could not do anything about it, and it was tearing her apart. What if, she kept thinking...what if...no, no. It was starting to rain; not too hard, but enough for her to wish she had brought an umbrella. God, she thought, I don't even think I own an umbrella.

By the time she got home, she felt frozen from the rain and tired from thinking too much. She flopped down on her bed--their bed--and closed her eyes. All she really wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a week, and then wake up and have everything be the way it was before. Before she met him, before she fell in love with him, before...everything. She rolled over on the bed and buried herself in the covers. She could not, would not stop thinking about him. As she drifted off, she wondered if he was thinking of her too.

******

His head against the window, he could hear the low roar of the train. He had hardly moved from that position since the train's departure from the station in Berlin. With his head cocked, leaning against the window, he had watched her walk away. He saw her get so far, then turn around and look back to make sure she was out of his line of vision--or so she thought--and he saw her stay there, leaning wearily on a wall, waiting for the train to start moving. He knew what she was really waiting for--for him to come back and forgive everything so they could live happily ever after. He wanted that too, more than anything, but he knew in his heart that it just could not be done. He had wanted to ask her to go back with him; in London at least she might have had a chance in the real world of theater. But all of a sudden, things had just become too complicated. He had realized how difficult it was to be with her and make her happy, no matter how much he loved her. It never would have worked out anyway. After all, he was a plain, ordinary English teacher and she was...well, she wanted more than that, more than he could have given her. 

He rested his head on the seat and closed his eyes. He could still see her, standing there at the station, looking cold and tired and lost--his last memory of her. He could still feel the way her hand had felt in his that last time: delicate, soft, and cold. Cold. He remembered how cold she had been, how it was nearly mid-winter and she did not have a coat. I should have bought one for her, he thought to himself. He worried about her so...he knew he would be all right, he could take care of himself. But she...she would get by. She would have to. If anything happened to her and it was his fault...He suddenly wished she had come with him. If she was sitting there next to him on that train, he would know that she was all right. He missed her...needed her...loved her.


	2. chapter 2

Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Cabaret or Sally Bowles or anything related. If I did, I would do a dance.

Dedication: Bianca Marina, thanks for everything…hope you don't have consumption hehe…you just called me your groovy alcoholic suicidal sister—of which I am none. This one's for you, Miss B…Love from Liza May. 

And now……my story………::dramatic music::

Opening one sleepy eye, Sally Bowles surveyed her surroundings. Lavish room, picture window with the sun shining in, canopy bed with all the trimmings. Not half bad, she observed. The man asleep next to her was not half bad either. He was handsome enough, charming enough, and Lord knew he was rich enough. Sally thought for a minute. She could stay and be there when he woke up, or she could dress quickly and leave quietly, without him ever knowing where she had gone or how to contact her. She opted for the latter, figuring he probably would not have even remembered her name given the chance. She usually did not stick around anyway. On the other hand, her head was already throbbing, and she would have liked nothing more than to just lie there and sleep for hours. But she could do that at home, even though her bed was not nearly as comfortable as this one. She got up and dressed quietly, taking care not to wake him, and then slipped casually out the door.

Once she got home, she poured herself a glass of gin and collapsed onto her bed. Her head still pounded and she realized she never felt very well anymore. Ever since…well, she knew since when. The combination of working late nights at the Club, not getting enough sleep and, she figured, drinking too much, was finally catching up with her. Oh, well. Not like she really had anything to live for anyway. She took another sip and thought about just drinking and drinking and drinking and drinking until she had drunk herself to death, but decided against it. 

Sally glanced at the clock—ten in the morning. She did not have to be at the Club until seven, so she figured she could sleep for a while and maybe she would feel a little better. She poured herself another glass of gin and settled back against the pillows.

*****

The Kit Kat Club was fairly full that night, which for Sally only meant that there were more men to pester her. Still, she kept her smile plastered on and kept flirting—after all, there was always the possibility that one of these guys could be a producer or a director or someone important who could give her career a boost. Tonight, one man in particular had caught her attention during her performance. He had been sitting alone, sipping champagne, watching her intently. He was quite handsome and certainly looked important. She had made a mental note to talk to him after she got offstage, but the Club was so busy that she had not yet made it over to his table. Drunk men were hounding her from all directions, and finally she excused herself and made her way to the restroom, intending to splash some water on her face to wake herself up a little bit. As she slipped into the narrow hallway that led to the restroom, she felt someone grab her wrist. She turned around with the intention of just casually brushing them off, but was surprised to see the face of the man whom she had noticed from the stage.

"Sally Bowles?"

She nodded. "Do I—"

He smiled. "No, you don't know me. My name is Jonathan Whitaker. I'm a friend of Brian Roberts."

Sally gasped audibly, unable to hide her surprise. "You…you know Brian?"

"He's one of my closest friends. We went to school together…" He was still speaking, but Sally could no longer hear him. Her heart was racing and so was her mind. Brian. The handsome champagne-sipping man she had been keeping her eye on all evening knew Brian. 

"Let's sit down; it's easier to talk that way," he suggested. Still holding her hand—he had been the whole time—he led her back to his table. "Champagne?"

She smiled a little. "Of course."

He ordered a new bottle and when it arrived, poured them each a glass. He kept watching her as she drank, and they sat in silence for a few minutes; him watching and her pretending not to notice. Finally, she met his gaze. "How did you find me? And why?"

"I'm here on business. Brian told me I might enjoy your club and your company. You don't mind, do you?"

"Oh, no, darling, it's just…well, Brian and I…" She was nervously stirring her drink with her finger, not even realizing it.

"I know."

She looked up, startled. "What?"

"Sally, I know. Brian told me everything. If you—"

"I—I should go," she said, cutting him off. She stood up and started to leave, but Jonathan caught her arm.

"Sally, please. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that I've heard a lot about you and it's nice to put a face with the name." He smiled, and she couldn't help but smile back. His smile was so gorgeous, she thought, and his eyes…no, she couldn't do this again; yet she found herself apologizing and sitting down to have another glass of champagne. They made small talk for a while, avoiding the mention of Brian's name or anything that might allude to him in any way, shape, or form. Sally studied Jonathan while they spoke. Something about his eyes captivated her; they were blue, but not normal eye-color blue, more like aquamarine. Vibrant and expressive, with just a hint of green. He had a beautiful smile and a great laugh. But she could not, absolutely would not, fall in love again with anyone the way she had fallen for Brian. It hurt too much. 

Jonathan glanced down at his watch. "It's getting late. May I walk you home?"

Damn it, Sally thought, why does he have to be so polite and charming?

Outside, it was freezing cold and snowing, of all things. Without hesitation, Jonathan took off his coat and draped it over Sally's shoulders. "Oh," she said, "You didn't have to—"

He grinned at her. "It's no trouble."

"I know. Well, I don't mean I know, I just mean…"

Jonathan laughed a little and said, "I know what you mean. I just don't want you to catch your death out here in the cold."

"I'm fine. But…thank you." Just my luck, she thought, I probably would catch my death in the cold. She felt the outside of the coat he had put on her…camel hair. God, he must be rich. 

They walked in silence for a bit, and it occurred to Sally that Jonathan had not asked why she was not wearing a coat in the first place. Brian had probably told him about that, too. A chill ran through her and she shivered involuntarily, and then felt Jonathan's arm slide around her shoulders. Suddenly, she felt safe, like nothing could harm her because he was there and he would protect her. Without thinking or really even being aware that she was doing it, Sally reached over and took his other hand in hers. 


	3. chapter 3

Jonathan Whitaker opened the door to his hotel room and flicked on the light. The room was small, with just a bed and night table, and a tiny adjoining bathroom. He took off his coat, which still smelled of Sally's sugary vanilla perfume. Now he could understand why Brian was so hung up on her—Jonathan found himself fascinated by her too. He felt awful about it, because after all, Brian was in love with this woman, and Jonathan had just met her and was already smitten. He also felt guilty for lying to Sally about being in Berlin "on business" and he was certainly glad she had not asked what he did for a living, because he did not know how he would have responded. The truth was that he did not really do anything for a living; he had never needed to. He had always had enough money to do whatever he pleased, whenever he pleased. He had never been to Berlin, though, and Brian had raved about it so much when he got back that Jonathan had decided to take a trip himself. Brian had told him about the Kit Kat Club, and had asked if he would just pop into the Club one night and "check on" Sally for him. He was worried about her, and Jonathan understood that and had said he wouldn't mind; he was always up for some good entertainment anyway. Brian had probably not expected Jonathan to actually talk to Sally, much less drink champagne with her and hold her hand when he walked her home. The deal was that Jonathan was supposed to call him after he had "checked on her," but now Jonathan didn't know if he could call Brian and lie to him. Well, it wasn't really lying…just bending the truth a little. Or rather, omitting certain details. Certain important details. But he had to make the call, because if he didn't, Brian would worry that something had happened to him or more importantly, that something had happened to Sally. Reluctantly, Jonathan placed his call. Brian picked up on the first ring, and they talked about Jonathan's trip for a while and then it was quiet for a minute and Brian said, "Have you…been to the Club yet?"

Here we go, Jonathan thought. "I went tonight."

"Was she there?"

"Yes, she was there. She sang."

"So she's all right?"

"Brian, she's fine." Jonathan had not meant to sound agitated, but he didn't want to talk about Sally anymore for fear he would slip and say something he shouldn't.

"Did you talk to her?" 

Well, he asked for it. No point in lying about that now. "Yes, I did. I introduced myself and—"

"You told her you knew me?"

"Well yes, Brian, I didn't want her to think I had been following her or something."

"What…what did she say?"

"She was surprised, but she didn't seem to mind. She wasn't angry or anything."

Brian sighed audibly. "Well all right. Are you going to see her again?"

Jonathan did not know what to say. He certainly intended to, but admitting that to Brian was probably not a good idea. "Maybe," he said instead. "If I go back to the Kit Kat Club while I'm here."

"Well if you do…Would you tell her I miss her?"

"I'll tell her." They said their good-byes and Jonathan hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. Thank God that's over, he thought. It had gone better than he had expected, and he hadn't had to fib too terribly much. Still, he worried…he knew he wanted to and he knew he would, without question, indeed see Sally again. 


	4. chapter 4

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Disclaimer: I do not own Cabaret, honest-to-Bob I don't. I don't know who does, but it sure as heck isn't me. I just love Kander & Ebb and Bob Fosse and everybody. So whee. Enjoy. 

*~*~*~*Once again, for Bianca Marina, Jackie O, and the Fosse Posse…I love you guys more than monkey cheese…LM*~*~*~*

AND NOW…my story…

Sally sat on her bed, drinking gin and trying to figure out what the hell she was going to do. She knew she had to sort out her own feelings before she could see Jonathan again…that was, if she could see him again.   
Since Brian had been gone, Sally had not felt much of anything for anyone. The men she met the Club, whom she had always found dashing and debonair, did nothing for her after he left. It was as if she had spent all of her emotions on one relationship, and now that relationship was over and she had no emotional capacity left. She realized that she had probably somehow trained herself to be that way. She knew what it was like to be in love and have it be wonderful, but she also knew what it was like to get hurt when everything ended. If she could no longer feel those extremes, extreme happiness and extreme sadness, then she figured she would be better off in the long run. The initial depression she felt when Brian left had gradually faded into just feeling numb instead. But Jonathan…Jonathan was the first person who had made her feel something again.   
He was everything Brian was and even more. But he knew him-he was his best friend, and she couldn't just fall madly in love with him and expect Brian to never find out. Her experiences with Brian and Max had taught her that men could not always be fooled, no matter how hard she tried. And she did try hard. But that day at the train station, the day he left, he told her that all he wanted was for her to be happy. He must have meant it…that was also the reason he had given for ending everything in the first place; he did not think he could ever make her happy enough. So if she was going to be happy with Jonathan…then he couldn't get mad, because that was what he wanted. Well, Sally thought, that's what I'm going to keep telling myself.   
It occurred to her that she had not asked Jonathan how long he was going to be in Berlin. He could be leaving tomorrow and she would never know. She wondered where he was staying…had he told her? Well, if he had, she'd forgotten by now, or had not been paying attention when he said it. Whatever she had to say to him would have to wait.   
Sally suddenly became aware of how tired she was. She knew she probably wouldn't be able to fall asleep for a while, but it couldn't hurt to try.   
******  
Sally awoke to a gentle knocking at her bedroom door. It took a minute to register with her; after all, it was eight o'clock in the morning and not usually a time for visitors. She pulled on her robe and went to answer it, figuring it was Fraulein Schneider wanting something or other. She was still tying the front of her robe when she opened the door, and was startled to look up and see Jonathan. Her surprise must have been visible, because he chuckled a little and took her hand and kissed it.   
"I take it you weren't expecting me," he said, grinning.  
She smiled, still a little bewildered. "I guess I should have known. Come on in, darling."  
Sally felt a little embarrassed as Jonathan looked around her room; she knew he was used to much more than just a tiny room with a bed and a window.  
"I brought you something," he said. "Here, close your eyes."  
She did, and she heard him leave the room and come back in. A few minutes later, he was draping something around her shoulders, and then guiding her to another part of the room.  
"All right. You can open your eyes now."  
He had moved her in front of the mirror, and when she opened her eyes, she saw herself standing there in a floor-length black mink coat. She gasped audibly, touching the fur as if making sure it was really real.  
"Oh my God," Sally whispered, "Jonathan…God, you shouldn't have…I mean, I can't…"  
He shook his head. "Don't say you won't accept it, I bought it for you and it's yours. Do you like it?"  
"Oh, it's beautiful! But I…I don't know what to say."  
He took her hands. "Say you'll come to London with me."  
She looked at him for a second. He couldn't have said what she thought he said. "What?"  
"Come to London with me!" He was really serious, he wasn't kidding and she hadn't heard him wrong.  
"But Jonathan…I…I can't just up and leave."  
"Sally, you can't look me in the eyes and honestly tell me that you want to stay here in Berlin for the rest of your life."  
Well, he had her there. "But I haven't got any money!"  
"You won't have to worry about money."  
"You…you want me to live with you?"  
"Well, yes…I guess so."  
"What about Brian?" She knew he would be crushed if he found out. And he would have to find out, because he was Jonathan's best friend. 

"What about him? He left you. He made that choice months ago."

"But what if he thinks I'm coming to London to be with him?"

"I'll…I'll call tonight and discuss it with him."

Sally sat down on the bed, still stunned. She looked up at Jonathan and said softly, "But…I just met you. We barely know each other."

"We'll get to know each other." He knelt down in front of her and took her hands. "Sally…you're better than this. You know that. You know how talented you are. I know people back in London, I can get you some auditions."

"You mean in movies?"

"Movies, theater, radio, whatever you want."

"You would do that for me?"

He nodded. "I'd like to."

"It's just…I've never had anyone be this nice to me before. Well, without wanting anything in return."

"I want to take care of you. That's all. So what do you say?" He was still kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in his. He can't be serious, she kept thinking, this has to be a dream or a joke or something. She looked into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and heard herself saying yes, she would go to London with him. He smiled. "I knew I could convince you. You won't regret it, Sally, I promise." He kissed her hand. "Can you be ready to leave at midnight?"

"Tonight? Well yes, I guess so. I don't really have anything to do except pack and…and quit my job at the Club." The Club. She hadn't even thought about that yet. 

"Can you do that this afternoon?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Do you want me to go with you? Or stay here and help you pack?"

"No, I'll be fine…Jonathan…are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life. You sure you'll be all right by yourself?"

She nodded absently. He kissed her cheek and left, saying he would be back to pick her up at eleven-thirty that night so they could make the midnight train. 

Sally had not moved from her spot on the bed, and she watched him leave and then she just sat there for another few minutes, trying to absorb everything that had just happened. Within a period of thirty minutes, she had obtained a new fur coat and managed to get out of Berlin without even initially planning on it.


	5. chapter 5

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Disclaimer: NosireeBobFosse, I do NOT own Cabaret or Sally Bowles or anything of the sort. Thank you and have a happy day.

Note: Okay, I haven't the slightest idea as to how long a train ride from Berlin to London actually takes…so I'm just going to make it up. In fact, I don't think it's really possible to take a train all the way from Berlin to London, because there's a body of water in there somewhere…Oh well, it's my story and if I want to take a train from Berlin to London then I will, dang it! If someone happens to randomly know something about transportation issues, or just has something random to say, drop me an email at judygarlandfan@catlover.com_ …Thanks ~Musetta~_

~~~And now…my story…~~~

Jonathan watched the world pass by outside the window of the train. It would have been a beautiful night if it had not been for the storm that was obviously brewing. He glanced down at Sally, asleep with her head on his shoulder. She had been sleeping since before the train even pulled out of the station in Berlin, and Jonathan figured it was probably a good thing because she had been so tired all evening. It was cold on the train, and he gently pulled Sally's coat closer to her. 

Jonathan thought about what they would do first when they got to London. He wanted to take Sally out for dinner, take her dancing, take her to the theater, and show her everything in the city all in one night. But he had some unfinished business to take care of first…he had not called Brian like he had promised Sally he would. He had never intended to do so in the first place, he knew Brian would not have taken the news well over the phone. Jonathan decided he would just meet Brian for dinner the next day and talk to him then, when he and Sally were already in London and nothing could be done about it. He hated to leave Sally alone on her first night there, but he knew very well how Brian would react, and he knew that not telling him as soon as possible would only make things worse. He thought about just bringing Sally to dinner with them, but that would upset Brian even more. 

"Jonathan…" Sally was awake. 

"Did you have a nice nap?" he asked playfully.

She sat up a little, snuggling closer to him. "It was all right. Are we almost there?"

"Another couple of hours, hold your horses," he said. "How's your headache?"

"It's…it's gone," she lied, not wanting to worry him. She regretted having told him she wasn't feeling well earlier.

"Good," he said, kissing her cheek. 

"Darling, did you talk to Brian this afternoon?" 

He looked at her, sitting there so beautiful in the coat he had bought her, waiting for him to answer her question. She was expecting him to be honest, and he couldn't bring himself to lie again. "No, I didn't. I—"

Sally looked up sharply, and for the first time, Jonathan saw a hint of anger in her eyes. "But you promised me!"

"Sally…I know. I'm sorry. I just…"

"You just what?" she said impatiently. 

"I thought it would be best to talk to him in person. I think doing it over the phone would have just made the situation worse. I'm sorry, darling. Really." 

"Fine," she said, leaning her head back on the seat and closing her eyes. "I don't feel well enough to argue with you anyway, Jonathan." She realized she had said that last part aloud without even intending to.

"What's wrong? I thought you were feeling better."

"Nothing. Never mind. Forget I said it."

"Sally…" 

"I said don't worry about it."

He started to tell her not to be angry with him, but decided it was best just to keep his mouth shut. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her resting her head in her hands and knew she had lied about the headache. Sighing audibly, he turned his attention back to the window. It was raining harder now. I should have just lied about it, he thought, it would have been so much easier if I had just lied about it. He leaned back and closed his eyes, dozing off a little. A few minutes later, he felt her hand on his. 

"Are you awake?" she whispered softly.

"I am now," he said, colder than he had intended to.

"Jonathan…I'm sorry. I'm just so tired. And this whole thing just makes me nervous…I'm worried about how Brian's going to feel and…you told me you would call him. I shouldn't have gotten so upset. I'm sorry, darling."

"Look at me, Sally," Jonathan said sternly. "Do you know how impossible it is to stay mad at you?" he joked, grinning at her. 

She laughed out loud. "I can only imagine." 

Impulsively, he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips met for a few seconds, and then Sally drew back, looking at him in surprise. "Sally, I'm—" he began to apologize.

"No," she said, cutting him off. "Do that again." He did, and this time she didn't seem to mind. Gently, he put both his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "Here, now you get some more sleep," he told her. "I want you feeling better when we get there. That way we can have some fun." She nodded and closed her eyes, resting against him. 

"I love you," she whispered as she drifted off. Jonathan looked at her in shock—what had she just said? He started to ask her to repeat it, but she was already asleep. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I love you too," he said softly.

******

Sally looked out the window of the train. She had never seen anything like the station in London. It was incredibly busy, even in the early hours of the morning. The station in Berlin was busy too, but not like this one. People were rushing around everywhere, pushing carts of luggage and talking hurriedly to one another. 

"Here's what's going to happen: we're going to get off the train, and then you're going to stand in one spot and look pretty while I go and get the luggage," Jonathan was saying. "Think you can do that?"

She smiled. "Of course. It's what I do best."

"I know," he said, kissing her. "All right, are you ready?"

"You bet."

"Well, here we go, then! Welcome to London!" He took her hand and led her off the train. He left to go get the luggage, and Sally sat down on a bench, taking everything in. It certainly felt cleaner than Berlin. Jonathan returned with their suitcases rather quickly, and they began to make their way out of the station. Getting through the crowds of people was difficult, and Jonathan did not have a free hand to keep track of her because he was carrying their suitcases. 

"Take my arm," he told her. She nodded in agreement and grabbed his elbow. She was concentrating so hard on keeping up with him and not bumping into anyone that it took her a minute to notice that he had stopped walking. She looked up at him. He was staring straight ahead.

"Jonathan, what—" she began, but then stopped short when she realized who he was looking at. 

Brian was standing there, just a few feet in front of them, looking bewildered. "Oh my God…" Sally whispered. Her first instinct was to run up and hug him, but she restrained herself. 

"Sally…and Jonathan," Brian said, matter-of-factly. "I should have known."

Jonathan spoke up quickly. "Look, don't jump to conclusions or anything—"

"Oh no, no, of course not. I mean, what am I supposed to think, when you're carrying five bags of luggage and you were only in Berlin for two days?"

"Brian, please," Sally said, "don't be this way. If you would just let Jonathan explain…"

Brian shook his head. "There's no need for that. I know perfectly well what's going on. Jonathan, I'm appalled. Sally, I'm not surprised in the least." He turned to leave. "Oh, by the way," he said, turning around after a few steps, "nice coat."

Sally watched him walk away, and suddenly she felt sick. "C--Can we just go?"

Jonathan nodded gravely. "I'm sorry about that. Maybe if I had called—"

"Don't worry about it. It's over now."

"Are you…all right?" Jonathan asked after a few minutes. 

"No, I'm not."

"Okay," he said softly. "We'll be home soon. Then you can do whatever you want."

"I don't want to do anything."

"I never said you had to. Don't get angry."

"I'm not. I just wish…it hadn't happened that way."

"I know, darling, I know."

"No you don't," she said softly. "You have no idea."


	6. chapter 6

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Disclaimer: I don't own Cabaret. I don't own Cabaret. I don't own Cabaret. Honest. I did "borrow" a few quotes from the film for this chapter though…I don't own those quotes. Bob Fosse does, Kander & Ebb probably do, and I guess Michael York does because he said them. Thank you and have a happy day.

Note: Hey it's almost Christmas! Happy Holidays everyone! Please send me feedback on my story…Lord knows I need it! Love, Musetta

And now…my story…

Sally was lying on the sofa in the sitting room, drifting in and out of sleep and in the meantime, marveling at Jonathan's beautiful home. When he had said he lived in London, she had imagined a fancy townhouse in the heart of the city, not a sprawling country house on the city's outskirts. The house reminded her of Max's country estate outside of Berlin, where she and Brian and Max had spent a few weekends. It seemed so long ago now…She was still in shock about seeing Brian at the train station. It had been so unexpected; she had just looked up and there he was, right in front of her, without any warning or anything. He looked exactly the same as he did the day he left Berlin…Sally didn't know why, but for some reason she had expected him to have changed somehow. Actually, he had changed. Four months ago he would never have said such cruel things to her, or to anyone else, for that matter. Brian was too polite for that. She still couldn't believe what he had said about her coat…and in front of Jonathan, too. He had to have known that Jonathan bought it for her. It seemed to fit though, because Max had bought her the first fur coat…she wondered where that coat was now. 

Anymore, Sally hated to think about those days. It felt like just yesterday when she had walked into their room at six o'clock in the morning, freezing cold and feeling terrible…she had tried to sneak by Brian but he woke up anyway…"Where have you been…where's your fur coat? You did it, didn't you…In God's name, why?" She could still hear him saying those things, so angry and hurt that she hadn't even consulted him before she went through with it. She hadn't been able to answer him when he asked her why she'd done it…if he were to ask her now, she still would not be able to answer. They had tried to work things out after that, but deep down they both knew it would never be the same. The decision to end the relationship had been mostly mutual, even though Sally fought it at first. She still cared how he felt about her, though…she couldn't live with herself if Brian was mad at her.  
Jonathan had gone to try to smooth things out with Brian, leaving Sally with the house to herself. He had left hours ago, and Sally was not surprised that he wasn't home yet. She figured it would take a while to get things straight with Brian, if that was at all possible now. Jonathan had made a mistake when he didn't call from Berlin and warn him first. The last thing Sally wanted to was to have Brian angry with her. She loved Jonathan madly, but she still had yet to completely let go of what she felt for Brian. Seeing him at the station had only confirmed that. She knew he felt the same way, despite the remarks he had made.  
Sally got up from the sofa and walked over to the beautiful, huge cherry-wood radio across the room. She turned it on and fiddled with the tuning. She didn't really know what kind of music she was looking for; just about anything would do. The house was too quiet with no one else there. Finally, she landed on something jazzy and instrumental, and sat back down on the sofa. Sally didn't want to fall asleep; she'd been sleeping too much lately. She was just starting to doze off again, however, when she heard the front door open. A few minutes later, Jonathan walked into the room.  
"Well, how did it go?" Sally asked, walking over to join him.  
He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her lightly. "It…it went. He's still not happy, but at least I got him to start speaking to me again. So what have you been doing all evening? I see you've made friends with the radio."  
"I've been sleeping, mostly."  
"Again? You slept for hours on the train!"  
"I know…I've just been so tired lately."  
"Well, did you eat dinner, at least?"   
Sally lowered her eyes sheepishly. "No, I…I wasn't hungry."  
"Then I'll fix you something now…what do you want?"  
"Jonathan…I'm fine. Really. I'm not hungry."   
Jonathan sighed and shook his head. "All right, but will you at least let me take you out for dinner tomorrow night?"  
"Well, yes, of course."   
"Do you want to go dancing, too?"  
She smiled. "That sounds wonderful."  
"Good." He yawned. "I'm going up to bed. You don't have to go yet if you don't want to."  
"I might as well. I don't have anything else to do." They walked up the stairs together, his arm around her waist, her head lightly on his shoulder. Jonathan opened the door to Sally's room and turned on the lights. "Do you like your room?" he asked.  
"It's beautiful." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you."  
"For what?"  
"Everything. Bringing me here. Letting me live with you. Being so good to me."  
He lifted her up a little bit and kissed her. "I love you."  
"I love you too. Good night, darling."  
"Sleep well," Jonathan said quietly as he left the room. 

******

To Sally, the next few days seemed straight out of a dream. Jonathan brought her breakfast in bed and champagne and caviar whenever she wanted. He took her to expensive restaurants, took her out dancing under the stars, and told her he loved her over and over again. She had no regrets about deciding to live in London; Berlin was the farthest thing from her mind…if only Brian were. She kept thinking about him, thinking about how hurt he must be. Jonathan's talk with him the night they had arrived hadn't resolved anything—not for Sally, at least. She had to talk to him herself, in person, not on the phone or in a letter. 

She had been thinking about it for a few days now…trying to figure out what she was going to say, how she was going to say it…and most importantly, trying to figure out how she was going to do it all without Jonathan finding out. He had told her point blank that he didn't want her to talk to Brian, that Brian was so incredibly angry with her and Sally trying to do anything about it would only irritate him further. She didn't care, she had to do this for herself. Jonathan would understand that…just not now. She decided she would go the next day, when Jonathan left to take his morning walk. 

Sally awoke that morning to a kiss from Jonathan. "Good morning, darling."

She opened her eyes a little. "Good morning," she said weakly. Even though she wasn't really awake yet, she could already tell that she had another headache. 

"You don't have to get up yet, I just thought I'd come in and tell you that I'm getting ready to take a walk and then go to the bank. Of course, you're welcome to come with me if you want."

"I think I'll just go back to sleep…"

"All right." He kissed her again. "I love you, Sally."

"I love you too, darling," she said, still half-asleep. As soon as Jonathan had closed the door behind him, Sally forced herself to get up and get dressed. She had to leave as soon as possible so that she would have enough time to go and talk to Brian and get back home before Jonathan returned. Her headache that morning was unusually bad, and she thought briefly about just going back to bed and postponing her trip to Brian's until the next day. No, she thought, Jonathan was gone now and she had the perfect opportunity to go without his ever knowing. 

She knew where Brian lived; Jonathan had shown her his house before. It didn't take long to walk there, and she wasn't planning on staying long either. She just had to tell him that this wasn't Jonathan's fault, that he hadn't planned it from the beginning, and that she had honestly thought Jonathan called him and discussed it with him first or else she would have done so herself. All right, Sally thought as she knocked on the door, here goes. 

The door opened, and Brian stood there, glaring at her. "I have nothing to say to you," he told her, already starting to close the door. 

Sally stopped the door with her hand. "Brian, please. I've got to talk to you." 

Obviously aggravated, he sighed and reluctantly let her in. "What do you want, Sally?"

"I don't want anything. I just came to tell you that I'm sorry. This…this wasn't supposed to happen the way it did. Jonathan told me he would call you before we left Berlin and explain everything to you so that you wouldn't be surprised when we got here. I didn't ask him about it until we were already on the train here, and then he told me he hadn't called you. Brian, I thought you knew. Really. I wouldn't have gone through with this whole thing if I had known that Jonathan hadn't told you."

"And you expect me to believe that? God, Sally, I stopped believing anything you said the minute I found out about the abortion!"

Sally was unable to hide how much he had hurt her. He might as well have just slapped her across the face. "That," she began, barely able to speak above a whisper, "…that was completely unnecessary." She suddenly felt sick, and she didn't know if it was because she was so upset or because her already-bad headache had just gotten two times worse.

"You're right. The abortion _was_ unnecessary."

"Brian…I can't believe you're bringing this up now. Didn't we talk about this months ago?" 

"Yes, and talking about it then never solved anything, just like talking about you and Jonathan now won't solve anything either. You see?" He was standing in front of her, his arms crossed. Sally had never seen him so angry, not even on the day everything had fallen apart for them back in Berlin. She nodded, blinking back tears. Her eyes were closed for a minute, and when she opened them everything was foggy and blurred. The pain in her head had worsened considerably and she was getting dizzy…She tried to focus on what Brian was saying, but she couldn't hear him over the roaring in her ears. She had to sit down…lie down…something other than stand up…

"Are you all right?" Brian was asking.

"I…I'm fine…I just need to…sit down…a minute…" Sally felt him take her hand and lead her to a sofa. Or a chair. Or a bed. Or something. She couldn't tell what it was, only that she was sitting and not standing and it still wasn't helping. Everything was so blurry…damn it, if only she had stayed home and slept. "Oh God," she whispered hoarsely, "…Brian…I don't know what's wrong…with me…" His arms were around her, and he was holding her close to him.

"Do you think you can stand up now?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I…I don't know…Maybe…" She took his hands and slowly stood up. "I think I'm…all right now…I've got to go home…Jonathan doesn't know I'm here and…Oh God…" Everything was foggy again and the room was getting darker…She couldn't stand any longer, and finally, she collapsed into Brian's arms. 


	7. chapter 7

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Disclaimer: Ok, do you know what I realized? I actually DO own one of these characters! I own Jonathan! I made him up! He is not in the movie or the play! I invented him! He is MINE! ::does a cartwheel:: Sorry, that made me happy. It's probably really sad that it took me that long to figure that out but whatever…as for the other characters and stuff, I don't own them. Kudos to Bob Fosse and whoever else might own them.   
  
And now…my story…  
  
  
Jonathan sat next to Sally's bed, watching her sleep. When Brian had called and said that he had better come over, that Sally was there and something was wrong, he certainly hadn't expected this. He didn't know what it was he had been expecting instead, but Sally being this sick had never even crossed his mind. They had taken her home, and then Jonathan had called his own doctor to come over and see her, figuring she had probably collapsed because she hadn't been eating much lately. But when the doctor had told him how sick Sally really was, that he feared there was something really and truly wrong with her, that he would have to come back tomorrow with more equipment and examine her further, Jonathan had hardly been able to breathe. Just last night they had gone to the theater--he had taken her to her first opera--and then they had gone dancing and…everything had been perfect.   
As he looked at her, he couldn't believe he hadn't realized it sooner. Her chronic headaches, her constant exhaustion…it all made sense now. She was so sick and he hadn't even stopped to consider that possibility before.   
Brian was sitting on the other side of the bed, keeping watch over Sally as well. Jonathan was actually glad he was there; he wouldn't have been able to sit alone all night. They hadn't talked much, except to express minimal amounts of support to each other…as much support as best friends fighting for the affections of the same woman could muster. Both of them kept their eyes on Sally, watching and waiting for any sign that she might be awake, but occasionally their eyes would meet over her. It was during one of those chance times of eye contact that Jonathan realized that Brian really did care for Sally. The look in his eyes just then had said it all. Jonathan shifted his eyes back down to Sally. He was holding her hand, gently playing with her fingers…he couldn't help but smile at her red fingernails. "Deep crimson," as she called them…it was the first thing she had done when they arrived in London. Painted her fingernails "deep crimson," claiming that her usual shade of green was just "too decadent" for such a sophisticated city.   
"I can't believe this," Brian said quietly, breaking the hour-long silence between them.  
"Neither can I." Jonathan didn't make an effort to look up. He kept playing with Sally's fingers, just as he would have had she been sitting there talking to him herself.  
"She was fine this morning, Jonathan. She was fine. We were standing there talking and then she just—"   
"I know, Brian. I know. You've told me already." Jonathan's voice was rising. "And I know she was fine this morning, because I came in and woke her up and we talked. I know all of this and I know I don't want to talk about it anymore."  
"Jonathan, I'm just trying to—"  
"I don't care what you're trying to do. Let's just leave it alone."  
It was silent for a moment, and then Brian spoke up. "You're not the only one who loves her, Jonathan."  
"I said I don't want to talk about it now!" He was almost yelling.  
"Fine." Brian gave up, crossing his arms and settling back into his chair.   
Jonathan continued holding Sally's hand, lightly kissing her fingers one by one. He couldn't discuss this with Brian now, because he knew that if he did he wouldn't be able to control himself. He didn't want to break down just yet. Sally could wake up any minute and she didn't need to see him upset.   
Jonathan was beginning to get tired, but he would not allow himself to go to sleep. He needed to be there and be awake when Sally regained consciousness. It worried him that she hadn't woken up ever since she had initially collapsed, which was now nearly twelve hours ago. But the doctor had said that it could take that long, so Jonathan figured all he could do was wait. He kept noticing how fragile she looked, how pale she was…even her hands didn't seem the same. Jonathan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, he felt Sally's hand move in his. He opened his eyes and sat up.   
"Jonathan…" she whispered. Her eyes were still closed.  
"I'm here, darling. I'm here." He looked over at Brian, who was perched on the edge of his chair.   
"Jonathan…" she said again.  
"I'm right here, Sally. Can you open your eyes, darling? I'm right here next to you. Just open your eyes and you'll see me."  
Her eyes fluttered open a moment later. "Brian," she whispered, looking to the side.  
"Hi, Sally," he said softly.  
"Where's Jonathan…"  
"He's on the other side of you. Just turn your head a little bit."  
Before she had the chance, Jonathan leaned down and gently kissed her on the lips. "There," he said. "Do you see me now?"  
She smiled a little. "Yes."  
"Good. How do you feel?"  
"All right." 

Jonathan could tell that she was starting to wake up a bit more; her voice was getting stronger and her words were getting clearer. He and Brian exchanged relieved glances.

"Can I sit up?" Sally was asking. "I don't like you two being able to look at each other funny without my knowing why." Both men laughed. It was obvious to Jonathan that Sally was indeed feeling better, as her sense of humor was returning. He propped a pillow up against the headboard of the bed and helped her sit up against it.

"Do you need anything else?" Brian asked.

"Actually…" Sally looked at Jonathan. "Darling, do you mind? I need to talk to Brian for a minute."

Jonathan was confused by Sally's request. He didn't mind her talking to Brian in the slightest, but did she really need to be alone with him to do so? "Well…of course I don't mind, Sally."

She squeezed his hand gently. "Thank you, darling." Jonathan nodded absently, and walked out of the room, leaving Sally and Brian to themselves.

"I just wanted to say thank you," Sally said softly.

"For what?" Brian realized he had subconsciously taken Sally's hand in his. He remembered the last time they had held hands…the train station in Berlin. It seemed like just yesterday…

"For everything you've done today," Sally was saying. "You called Jonathan when I got sick…I know that wasn't easy for you to do."

"Sally, of course I called him. I—I had to. He's your…he loves you."

"I just mean…I know what you two are going through right now, and for you to do that…for you to admit…well, I just mean it was very considerate of you. You and I weren't on the best of terms this morning, and for you to stay here with me—and with Jonathan—this whole time was just…more than I would have expected. So thank you."

"You don't owe me thanks, Sally…not after how I've treated you."

"Brian, really, it's all right."

"No, it's not. I apologize…I shouldn't have said those things to you this morning. And I shouldn't have said what I said at the train station. Especially the part about—"

"I know. I don't want to talk about it again."

"Me either. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I hope you understand…"

"I do." Sally had started to cry without even realizing it. Brian reached over to wipe the tears off her cheek, and their eyes met. Impulsively, involuntarily, and without even thinking about it, they both leaned in to kiss. In the few seconds that their lips touched, they were both flooded with memories. Sally pulled away first, and they just sat looking at each other for what seemed like forever, startled with themselves. After a few more minutes of silence, Sally spoke up. "Tell me that didn't mean anything."

"I—I can't say that, Sally." Brian averted his eyes, ashamed. What would he tell Jonathan? More silence.

"Neither can I," she finally said, quietly. 

  



	8. chapter 8

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Disclaimer : Guess what, Cabaret is not mine. Wheeeeee.

And now…my story…

Sally stared up at her bedroom ceiling, just as she had been doing all night. Jonathan slept soundly in a chair next to the bed. She was glad he was asleep; she had too much on her mind to talk with him, or anyone for that matter. Since she had slept all day, she was unable to sleep at all that night and instead, lay there worrying. She worried about herself, and what could possibly be wrong with her. Jonathan had been reluctant to tell her anything when she had asked him, and finally he had told her that all the doctor had said was that he was coming back in the morning. Sally could tell that Jonathan knew more than he would say; that the doctor must have told him something else, something worse. All Sally knew, though, was that she had never felt so ill before. Her headache had returned not long after she had awakened, and by the time Brian left she couldn't sit up any longer without getting dizzy every five seconds. Jonathan had wanted to call the doctor again, but Sally told him that she was fine as long as she was lying down, and Jonathan hesitantly agreed that the doctor's next visit could wait until morning as planned. Jonathan kept trying to make her smile, make her laugh, make her do anything but think about how bad she felt. She appreciated his effort, but it just wasn't helping. All Sally could think about, outside of how awful she felt, was Brian.  
Nearly six hours after Brian left, Sally still couldn't figure out what had possessed her to kiss him, or to let him kiss her…she wasn't sure who had initiated it. Ironically enough, it appeared to have been mutual, like everything else in their relationship. Jonathan still had no idea that they had done anything but talk when he left the room, and Sally thought it was just as well. He didn't need to know, not now, not ever. No matter how much she and Brian thought they could make things work, they could never be together again, so it wouldn't matter if Jonathan never knew. Because nothing was going to happen—at least, that's what Sally was going to keep telling herself. They couldn't be together. They couldn't do that again. And besides, she loved Jonathan, and Jonathan loved her, and that was all she needed. Jonathan made her happy. She would get over Brian eventually…she hoped. 

******

Jonathan was sitting outside Sally's bedroom door. The doctor had come and gone, and Sally had been sleeping since he left. Jonathan knew that when she woke up, the first thing she was going to do was ask what the doctor had said, and how…how could he tell her that when the doctor had spoken with him in the hallway just outside her room, he had said that there was something blocking the blood flow to her brain, that there was nothing that could be done about it, and that she didn't have much time left? He was regretting having told the doctor that he wanted to tell Sally himself; he didn't want to break down in front of her. Jonathan had forced himself to leave the room while she slept because he was not able to look at her anymore without beginning to cry. It just wasn't fair…she was lying there, sleeping so peacefully, having no idea how sick she was…he couldn't handle it. It was almost as if he was lying to her. He had to get out of that room. But she was bound to wake up any minute, and…Jonathan realized the phone was ringing. He hurried down the hall to his bedroom to pick it up before the ringing woke Sally. "Hello?"

"Hi, Jonathan." Brian. He had forgotten to call Brian. "Do you know anything yet?"

"Yes." Jonathan took a deep breath and slowly repeated to Brian what the doctor had told him.

"Oh my God," Brian said. "Jonathan, I'm…I'm so sorry. How is she taking it?"

"She—she doesn't know yet."

"You haven't told her?"

"She's asleep. She's been asleep since Dr. Warren left. God, Bri…how am I supposed to tell her something like this?"

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No, I…I think I can handle it alone. I think Sally will take it better if it's…just me."

"I understand."

"I'll call you later. I might want you here and…Sally might need you here, too." Jonathan heard Sally calling for him from her room. "She's awake, Bri…I'd better go in there."

"All right. Call if you need me."

"I will." Jonathan hung up the phone and sat on his bed for a minute, trying to compose himself. Inhaling deeply, he got up and walked down the hall to Sally's room.

She was indeed wide awake, and she had moved her pillow so that she was sitting up, resting against it. "There you are," she said, smiling.

He attempted a grin. "Here I am."

Sally's smile quickly faded. "It's bad, isn't it?"

He pretended not to know what she was talking about. "What is?"

"Don't do that, Jonathan. What…what did the doctor tell you?" She was looking straight into his eyes. Oh God, Sally, he thought, you have no idea. He sat on the side of the bed and took one of her hands, clasping it tightly between both of his.

"Listen, darling," Jonathan began gently. "Dr. Warren told me that there is something in your brain, and…and whatever it is…well, it's not supposed to be there, and it's causing your blood to…to not get to your brain fast enough." He heard his voice breaking. "…And there's not any treatment f-for it." 

Sally was still looking at him. "I'm…I'm not going to get any better, am I?" Her voice was nearly inaudible.

"No, darling, you're…you're not." He struggled to blink back the tears that were welling in his eyes. He wasn't going to let her see him upset; she didn't need that now. It was quiet for a few minutes.

"Jonathan?" she whispered meekly.

"What?" He already knew what her next question was…the question he had been dreading.

"Am I going to die?" Jonathan couldn't bring himself to answer. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Oh God," Sally whispered. Jonathan crawled up onto the bed and pulled her close to him. He was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard, holding her in his arms, gently rocking her back and forth and crying silently. She lay crumpled in his lap, sobbing. "I don't want to leave you, Jonathan."

"I know…" 

"This can't happen…I'm not ready yet."

"Shh, Sally…" He wished she would stop talking and just let him hold her. He couldn't handle what she was saying.

"I…I wanted to get married some day. I wanted to—"

"Sally, don't. Please. Not now. You're…you're just getting yourself worked up." For the next few minutes, the room was completely silent except for her muffled sobs. Finally, she raised her head and looked up at him. Her eyes were glassy with tears. "I love you."

"I love you too, Sally."

Sally had calmed down a bit, and for a while they just lay there together, holding each other. 

"I guess we should call Brian and ask him to come over…so we can tell him," she said.

"He called earlier, when you were asleep. I told him."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed.

"Do you want to see him now? I'll call him if you want me to."

"Would you, Jonathan? I just…"

"Sally, you don't have to explain. I know that Brian is important to you too…I'm not jealous. Or worried."

"Well…good," Sally said softly, lowering her eyes. She felt terrible for lying to him…not telling him about kissing Brian. But she hadn't meant to, she hadn't planned on it…it had just happened. So it was all right not to tell Jonathan.

"I'm going to go downstairs, call Brian, and make you some tea," Jonathan was saying as he rose from his spot on the bed. "You get some rest until I come back." Sally nodded. She was already getting tired again…she figured she could take a nap before Brian came over. As she was starting to fall asleep, she fully realized what Jonathan had said earlier…she was going to die. It hadn't really hit her until just then. There were so many things she was never going to get the chance to do…be an actress, a real actress, just like she'd always wanted to be. Get married. Have children. God, Sally thought, this is it, this is all I'm going to have…ever.

  



	9. chapter 9

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Disclaimer : NOT MINE. Cabaret is NOT MINE.

A/N: It is 5:18am. I have been working on this chapter ALL NIGHT LONG. It was very difficult to write, it took a lot out of me…PLEASE review. PLEASE. I am begging you. ~Musetta~

And now, my story…

Weary and exhausted, Jonathan stretched out on the sofa in his living room. In the two weeks since Sally had gotten sick, he and Brian had rarely left her side. One of them, if not both, was always there in her room to make sure she was comfortable, get her anything she needed, and if nothing else, to keep her company. It hadn't been difficult the first few days, but now it was starting to wear on both of them. They had begun to work almost in shifts—Jonathan was with Sally during the day because Brian taught during the day, then Brian would come over and stay with Sally in the evening while Jonathan made dinner and took care of things he had to do. Brian usually stayed the night; he had virtually moved in anyway. He slept in Jonathan's room because Jonathan slept in Sally's room in case she needed anything in the middle of the night. 

Jonathan had not thought that taking care of her would be so hard. The most difficult thing though, for him and for Brian, was having to watch Sally's illness take control of her. It seemed to Jonathan that she got worse every day. For a while, it had just been the headaches and lightheadedness. Then the headaches got worse, and Dr. Warren had said to keep all light out of the room—shutters closed, blinds pulled, lamps off, door always kept shut when Sally had a headache. The headaches made the dizziness even worse, so much so that when Sally's head hurt she couldn't sit up at all. And that was only the first week. Jonathan couldn't believe it…just a month ago, they had arrived in London, so excited about their new life together and now…now Sally couldn't even sit up in bed when she wanted to, much less stand up or walk.

Brian was up there with her now. When Jonathan had last left the room, a few hours ago, they had been looking at a movie magazine Brian had picked up for Sally. Today had actually been a good day; her headache had gone away early in the afternoon and as of dinnertime, she had yet to have another. Jonathan glanced up at the clock—ten already. Time to go up for the night. When he got to the top of the stairs, he saw that the door to Sally's room was closed. That meant another headache. He turned out the light in the hall and quietly let himself into the room. Brian was sitting in his usual chair at the side of the bed. Jonathan pulled another chair up beside him.

"Is it a bad one?" he asked quietly. Brian nodded.

"Jonathan?" Sally's voice was weak.

"I'm here, Sally."

"I think…it's starting to go away." She opened her eyes a bit, still squinting.

"That's good, darling. Do you want anything?"

"Something to drink," she told him. "Something hot."

"I'll get you some tea."

"I'll get it," Brian offered, before Jonathan could get up.

"All right," Jonathan said. "Thanks, Bri."

Sally waited until the door closed behind Brian. "Jonathan…I have to tell you something."

He crossed the room and sat on the side of her bed. "What is it, Sally?"

She hesitated for a second. "The day I got sick…Brian was here…and I asked you to leave so I could talk to him. Do you remember?"

Jonathan nodded. Of course he remembered, he'd always wondered what that conversation had consisted of.

"Jonathan, I…I kissed him."

Jonathan just looked at her. She sounded so remorseful, so ashamed. "Sally…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it…it just happened. We just…had sort of…a flashback, I guess. It was like we felt as though we had to do it…for…old time's sake. It…didn't mean anything." Well, Sally thought, it doesn't mean anything anymore. 

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I felt like I needed to…I hadn't told you for so long and it seemed like I was lying…I wanted to be honest. I don't want us to have any more secrets."

"All right. I understand."

"You won't say anything to Brian, will you?"

"No, darling…of course not."

Just then, the door opened and Brian came back in with Sally's tea. "Here," he said, sitting the cup on the table. "You can't drink it lying down. Think you can sit up yet?"

"I don't know. It's getting better. I can try." She reached back and propped the pillow up against the headboard, so that she was resting upright against the pillow.

"You all right?" Brian asked.

"I think so. The room isn't spinning and there aren't four of you anymore, so I think I'm okay." Jonathan and Brian both laughed. It was good to see her joking around again. She took the tea from Brian and sipped it slowly.

"Is it safe to turn on the lights now?" Jonathan asked. "It's a little dark in here."

Sally nodded. "I can handle it." He flicked on the lamp next to her bed. "Oh…maybe not that one yet," she said softly.

"I'm sorry, darling," he said, quickly turning it off. "How about this?" He had walked across the room and turned on the lamp that sat on her dressing table. "Better?"

"Yes, much."

"Sally?" Brian began. "Before you…I mean—" 

"You can say it, Brian. Before I die." 

"Sally, I have to know something."

"What is it?" She was pretty sure she knew what he was about to say.

He hesitated for a moment and looked at Jonathan, wishing he wasn't sitting there just then…but he couldn't just tell him to leave, and he had to talk to Sally now. "The baby…was it mine? Or Max's?"

"Bri…I told you then and I'll tell you now…I don't know."

"Yes, you do. I know you do."

Sally closed her eyes for a minute, then said softly, "Jonathan…would you excuse us…for a little bit?" Her voice was getting weaker.

"Sally, I'd—I'd better stay. You don't sound like you're feeling very well and—"

"Jonathan. Please. I'm not…going anywhere yet."

"That's not what I meant, Sally."

"Jonathan, come here," Brian said, walking out into the hall.

"What, Brian?" Jonathan was already agitated. First Sally had told him about the kiss, and now Brian was asking her about this.

"Look, Jonathan, if she doesn't want you to hear this, don't you think she's doing it for your own good? This is important to Sally. And important to me. We have been needing to have this conversation for four months…so just let us have it, all right?"

"I'm sorry, Brian. I didn't realize…I was being selfish. Just make sure she's all right."

"I will. I'll come get you when we're done." Brian walked back into the room, making sure to close the door behind him,

"Is he angry with me?" Sally wanted to know.

"No, of course not…he's just worried about you. If he's angry with anyone, he's angry with me. But that doesn't matter." He sat down on the side of the bed. "Now, go on."

"Brian, it…it wasn't yours." Sally lowered her eyes.

"But…how…"

"Max and I were…together a lot. And when I found out, I…I did the math, Bri. And…it just isn't possible."

"When was it, Sally?"

"One of the weekends we stayed at Max's."

"But you and I—"

"The second weekend," she said, cutting him off. "You were mad at me because you thought I was falling in love with Max. We had a fight and you left the house. Don't you remember?"

He nodded.

"Max came into my room…I was crying. He had heard us yelling. He thought you had hit me, so he came to make sure I was all right. And…that's when it was." She looked up at him, finally meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry, Brian. I'm sorry because…that was the reason I did it."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"I never loved Max! I loved you! I wanted so much for that baby to be yours. But when I realized that it…that it wasn't, I couldn't go through with it anymore. I almost killed myself instead…I tried to. I went into the bathroom and found some of your razor blades, but then I heard you walk in and I didn't want to do that. I wanted to live because I had you."

"Oh, Sally…it was all my fault then, wasn't it?"

"No, it was my fault…My fault for sleeping with Max. My fault for having the abortion."

Brian looked at her. "Sally. You've…you've never called it that before."

"I know," she whispered. "I…don't like to. But Brian, do you realize…even if I hadn't done it, I would still be just as sick as I am right now. The baby wouldn't have lived anyway…no matter whose it was."

"But we would still be together…if you hadn't done it."

"You don't know that," Sally said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Sally. I know you love Jonathan now."

"It…doesn't matter who I love anymore."

"Yes, it does."

"No, it doesn't. I don't want Jonathan to have to lose me…to watch me die. I don't want to be the reason for his unhappiness." She paused for a second. "Or yours."

"Sally, don't worry about me. And as for Jonathan…I've known him for years, and I have never seen him as happy as he is with you."

"I'm dying, Brian. When I go…he won't be happy anymore. And it'll be my fault."

"You can't help that you're sick."

"No, but I can help that I let myself fall in love with him. That I came here, to London, with him."

"But you had no way of knowing—"

"I know what it's like to be hurt. I don't want to hurt him."

"You're not. As long as you're here, like you are right now, he's happy. He loves you so much, Sally."

"But when I—"

"Don't worry about that yet. Don't even think about it. All that counts is now. You're here now, and when you're not here anymore, Jonathan will always have memories to look back on. And they'll be happy memories."

"Brian…you will take care of him, won't you?"

"Of course I will."

"Thank you," she said softly, closing her eyes.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just…tired."

"I'll send Jonathan back in." He rose from his spot on the bed and began walking toward the door.

"Wait. I'm not done yet."

"Sally, do you really think you should—"

"I'm fine. When I'm about to die, I'll let you know."

"That's not what I meant."

"God, Bri, I know…I'm sorry. I'm just so tired of you and Jonathan treating me like I'm a little girl."

"We're just worried."

"I know. I know. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Now, what else do we need to talk about?"

Sally was silent for a minute. "I…I never stopped loving you, Brian."

"I never stopped loving you either," he said after a slight pause. "But Sally, you do love Jonathan, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Very much."

"So then why…"

"I just thought you should know. If you didn't already." She looked up at him. "I didn't want to die and leave you not knowing how I felt."

"Sally, don't talk like that."

"I've accepted it, Brian. I know I don't have much time left. I just wanted you to know—" She suddenly closed her eyes and lay back on the pillow behind her. "Oh…"

"Sally?"

"I'm…all right…just…dizzy…"

"Sally, I—"

"Get Jonathan," she whispered hoarsely.

Oh God, Brian thought as he ran out into the hall, Oh God, this could be it. "Jonathan!" Where was he? "Jonathan, come in here now!"

"Brian, what—" Jonathan began as he ran up stairs. He stopped short when he saw the look on Brian's face. "Oh, God."

They went back into Sally's room. Jonathan sat on the side of the bed, holding her hand. "Darling?"

"Jonathan…I can't…"

"You can't what?"

"I…I'm so dizzy…" Her voice was barely audible, her breathing was shallow. "Stay with me…I don't know…if I—"

"Shh, darling. Don't talk anymore. Just rest." He glanced over at Brian, who was sitting on the other side of the bed. "Brian," Jonathan said quietly, "Go in my bedroom and call Dr. Warren. Tell him we need him now." Brian nodded and left the room quickly. Jonathan turned his attention back to Sally. "Are you comfortable, darling?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm not going just…yet…"

"I know, Sally."

"Jonathan…I'm so cold…"

"Here," he said, gently pulling the covers up further. "Better?"

"A little…thank you…" 

Brian walked back into the room. "He's on his way, Jonathan."

"Good. Thanks, Bri." No one spoke after that. Sally was drifting in and out of consciousness. Brian and Jonathan were on either side of her, each holding her hand. Neither of them ever took their eyes away from her.

There was a knock at the door a few minutes later. Jonathan rose silently and went to let the doctor in. Dr. Warren told Brian and Jonathan to wait for him the hall.

"This—this could be it, Brian." Jonathan buried his face in his hands.

"I know," Brian said. They stood there in silence until Dr. Warren emerged.

"Jonathan," he began, "she's asking for you."

"Is she—"

The doctor nodded. "Hurry."

Jonathan went back into the bedroom. "I'm here, Sally." He perched himself on the bed and took her hand once more.

"Jonathan…I love you so much." She was barely whispering. He kissed her hand.

"I love you too."

"I want to thank you…for bringing me here…"

"Sally, you don't need to thank me for anything."

"You took such good care of me…"

"Darling, I—"

"I love you. Don't ever forget…that I love you."

"Sally, listen to me. I love you so much—too much. I could never, ever forget what we have."

"Promise me…"

"Anything, darling."

"That you and Brian…will be friends again. When I'm gone…it will be…easier…"

"Sally, don't think about it like that."

"Promise me."

"I—I promise."

"I love you, Jonathan…" she whispered again.

"I love you too." He leaned down and kissed her gently, surprised to feel her return the kiss.

"Jonathan," Dr. Warren said from the doorway. Jonathan looked at Sally once more, then gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll be back," he said. "I love you, Sally." He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Brian was sitting in the hallway, teary-eyed. Jonathan sat down beside him, not saying a word. They sat there, grown men crying together, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the bedroom door opened. They both stood to face the doctor.

"I'm so sorry, Jonathan," he said solemnly, "She's gone."


	10. chapter 10

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Disclaimer : Once again, Cabaret is not mine. And once again, I have borrowed a few scenes from the film for flashback-type purposes.   
A/N: No one is reading my story. ::sniffle::  
  
  
Surprisingly enough, the news hit Brian first. It felt like a slap in the face more than anything; he hadn't even gotten to say goodbye to Sally, and now the doctor had just broken the news of her death and directed it completely at Jonathan. "I'm sorry, Jonathan," he had said. Of course. Everyone would be sorry for Jonathan. After all, he loved her, and she had loved him back. Brian couldn't believe the irony of the situation—if it had not been for him, Jonathan and Sally would never have even met, and the only reason they did meet was because Brian loved her so much and asked Jonathan to see that she was doing all right in Berlin. Doing all right…well, she certainly had been doing all right then. But she was gone now, and no one could fix it. Not the doctor, not Jonathan, not Brian. No one. Brian was angry, angry because he had not had the chance to tell her how he felt-the conversation they had been in the middle of had only consisted of her feelings for him so far. He kept telling himself that she must have known that he still loved her. He had said it once, but not how he had intended to. And the baby that never was…Max's baby. Not his. It was just as well then, except for the fact that had Sally not had the abortion, she and Brian would still have been together. He knew that. He would never have left her that way and…she would never, ever have left him. They would have gotten married because of that baby, and now it seemed almost silly because it hadn't even been his. But he had loved her that much…she had told him from the beginning that she didn't know whose it was, but they had decided they didn't care. Brian kept thinking of the night they had spent sitting on the floor of their bedroom—Sally had covered the entire room with candles—laughing and drinking and planning their future together. Some future it had turned out to be…at any rate, certainly not what they had planned that night.   
Brian sat on the floor in the hallway, leaning against the wall, crying quietly and thinking of everything he wished he would have been able to say to Sally. But she had asked for Jonathan, not him. He understood—she wanted to say goodbye to the man she loved, and it was only fair that Jonathan get to say goodbye to her first, but…Brian knew Sally must have wanted to see him. True, they had been talking beforehand, and she had told him that she still loved him, but he wanted to be able to say it back to her. He thought that her intentions had possibly been to say goodbye to Jonathan first and foremost, and then to ask the doctor to tell him to come in…but she had just been too sick. Or maybe he was wrong, maybe she hadn't wanted to see him at all for whatever reason. Either way, he had not been able to tell her everything he had to say. He looked at Jonathan, who was sitting at the top of the stairs, weeping, his head in his hands. They hadn't said anything to each other since the doctor had told them she had died. Brian wanted to go and talk to Jonathan, for moral support if nothing else, but he knew it wasn't a good idea—not yet, at least.   
******  
Jonathan was trying to comprehend everything that had just happened. Just an hour ago, he and Sally had been promising each other that there would be no more secrets in their relationship and declaring their love, and then the next thing he knew, Dr. Warren had come out of Sally's room saying that he was sorry, but she was gone. Dead. Sally was dead. Jonathan hadn't realized what the doctor had said at first, it just didn't register with him because he didn't think it could be real. He knew that Sally was dying, he had known that for two weeks, but somewhere in the back of his mind he had just thought that she would never actually be gone. But she was now, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had done everything in his power to take care of her, done everything he could to keep her well for as long as possible, yet she had died anyway. It was sooner than he expected—much sooner than he expected.   
Deep down, Jonathan felt bad for Brian. He didn't know what Sally had said to Brian while he was out of the room, but he figured it wasn't what Brian had hoped to hear. And Brian had not been able to say goodbye to her…Jonathan felt guilty about that, though he didn't quite know why. He felt as if he should have let Brian come with him when he went in to see Sally for the last time, even though Brian hadn't asked to do so at the time. And Jonathan knew he hadn't been thinking clearly then, or else he probably would have told Brian to join him. He glanced over at Brian, sitting in the hallway outside Sally's room. Or, rather, what had been Sally's room. He kept hearing her voice in his head: "Promise me…that you and Brian will be friends again…" That was what she wanted. She wanted the two most important men in her life to rekindle the friendship they had once had, before she had come into the picture. Jonathan sighed. If that was what Sally wanted…if that was what Sally wanted, then he was going to have to make the effort. He couldn't live with himself otherwise. Slowly, he got up and walked over to where Brian was sitting. Brian looked up. "How are you, Jonathan?" he asked quietly.  
"I'm…I'll be all right," Jonathan replied, sitting down across from Brian in the hallway. "How are you?"  
"I'm not sure yet."  
"Why?"  
"I didn't even get to say goodbye to her."  
"I know." Jonathan could tell his friend was angry. "Brian, if there's something you need to say, just say it."  
"All right. It's not fair, Jonathan."  
"What's not fair?"  
"This whole thing. I loved her. I loved her just as much as you did and maybe even more. And it isn't fair because she loved me too! She loved both of us, Jonathan. But she knew—she knew what would happen if she and I tried to start anything again. Sally and I…we never should have split up in the first place. If we had just stayed together and gone through with everything we planned…we would have been fine."  
"Brian, even if all that had happened, Sally would still have gotten sick and nothing would be any different than it is now."  
"No, everything would be different. Sally and I would have been married by now. Didn't you tell me that she said she was going to regret never being able to get married?"  
Jonathan nodded solemnly. "Yes, she said that."  
"You see, then? That's one reason why this isn't fair. There was one thing that Sally wanted that she never got—one thing she would have had before she died if we had stayed together. Jonathan, the only reason you and Sally ever even met at all was because of me—because I loved her. And in the end, I was the one who didn't get the chance to tell her goodbye. I was the one who had a substantial relationship with her at one point in time, and it was because of that relationship's demise that you and Sally met. And I just can't help but think, what if I had stayed in Berlin?"  
"Brian. Don't do this to yourself. Either way, she would still be gone now."  
"I know that. But at least she would have died knowing that I loved her."  
"She knew, Bri."  
"No, she didn't. She thought I was angry about you and about the baby…"  
Jonathan hesitated for moment, then said, "So the baby wasn't yours, then?"  
"No. Of course not. And isn't it ironic—I was going to marry her and it wasn't even mine, and she said that was why she did it. Because it wasn't mine and she thought that was the reason I was marrying her."  
"So…this is about you thinking Sally never knew how you felt about her?"  
"Not entirely. Jonathan, you knew her for a month, if even that. I knew her for nearly a year, counting the time I was here and she was still in Berlin. I loved her for that long, and she loved me too. She told me so. And when I went to meet you at the station when you got back from Berlin and I saw you walking toward me arm-in-arm with Sally…I felt betrayed. By both of you."  
"It wasn't supposed to happen that way."  
"It doesn't matter how it was supposed to happen. What matters is what did happen, and what did happen was that my best friend and the woman I loved went behind my back and—"   
"Don't bring Sally into that situation. It wasn't her fault. That was all my wrongdoing…all right? I promised her I would call you and tell you what was going on before we left Berlin, and I broke that promise. So don't blame her." The two men just sat staring at each other in silence for a minute. "I didn't mean to fall in love with her, Brian."  
"I know that. And you know what—I didn't mean to fall in love with her either. We were friends first. She always wanted to be more than that, and I resisted for a while. I don't know why. I wanted to be with her from the moment I met her. But I was afraid to get too involved…with Sally, with anyone. But when I finally gave into her, I…I never wanted to let her go."  
"Then why did you?"  
"I didn't think I could trust her anymore. She had gone behind my back—deliberately gone behind my back and I just didn't think I could forgive her. And she wanted too much. When I thought about it, really thought about it, I realized how little I was actually offering her. Moving back here with me, her sitting around the house all day while I was at work…she wanted more than that."  
"Did she ever actually tell you what she wanted, Bri?"  
"She always said she wanted to be an actress. A real actress, like in the movies."  
"She told you that?"  
"Yes, many times. I just thought…I just thought it was better for her, better for her career if she stayed there in Berlin, working at the Club. She had more of a chance of being…discovered there." He laughed. "She was sure it was going to happen some day. Sure that Max Rheinhart or Erich von Stroheim or someone was going to waltz into the Club and make her the next Gloria Swanson."  
Jonathan smiled. "That sounds like Sally."  
"Jonathan," Brian began after a few minutes, "Why did you ask her to come here with you?"  
Jonathan thought for a moment. "I thought it was better for her. I thought she deserved more than a tiny room in a boardinghouse in Berlin. She was so talented and I thought…I really was going to get her some auditions out here. She could have been something, Bri."  
"I know," Brian said quietly. "Did you love her then?"  
"Yes, I…I think I did. Why are you asking me these things, Brian?"  
"I just…I'm trying to understand why it worked out so well for her to come here with you and not with me."  
"You know why she didn't come with you. You wouldn't let her. You said it yourself, you didn't trust her anymore." Both men were silent for a few minutes, then Jonathan spoke up again. "You do realize that there isn't any point in discussing this now?"  
"Yes, I know. I just regret not taking the chance when I had it."  
"I understand that, but Bri…she's gone now. Our arguing won't bring her back."

"I…I know that."

"Do you know what the last thing she said to me was?" Brian shook his head. "She made me promise her that you and I would be friends again. That's what she wanted, Brian."

"Did she really tell you that?"

Jonathan nodded. "I think she felt guilty…she felt like she came between us."

"Were you going to marry her?" Brian asked abruptly.

"What?"

"Were you going to marry her, Jonathan?"

"I…I don't know. We never discussed it. I suppose if she hadn't gotten sick, then—"

"Then you would have." There was an edge to his voice that bothered Jonathan. He couldn't believe Brian was being so unreasonable, asking such petty questions. It just wasn't like him.

"Why does it matter?" Jonathan sighed impatiently.

"Because then she would have been yours for good." 

As far as Jonathan was concerned, that last statement had done it. "God, Brian, she wasn't a possession!" He was nearly shouting. 

Brian stood up. "I'm finished with this, Jonathan." Without another word and without giving Jonathan a chance to respond, he turned around, went down the stairs, and proceeded to storm out of the house.

  



	11. chapter 11

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Disclaimer : Whee. I don't own Cabaret. Whee.

A/N: Why doesn't anyone read my story??? ::sad::

Shortly after leaving Jonathan's house, it occurred to Brian that he really didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away. Away from Jonathan, away from that house, the house where Sally's body would remain until the doctor came for her in the morning. Morning, Brian realized, was only a few hours away by now. But it was still pitch-black outside, and freezing, freezing cold. After just sort of wandering for a while, he finally gave up and decided to just go home. There was really nowhere else to go. It was three o'clock in the morning and everything had been closed for hours.

Brian had not spent much time, if any at all, at his own house lately. The last day he had really been there for any length of time was the day Sally had come to talk to him...the day she had gotten sick. He thought back to that day…two weeks ago. It had only been two weeks ago when this all started, and now it was over. It felt strange to Brian to walk through the front door of his house, knowing that the last time he was there Sally was there too, and now she was gone and would never, ever be there again. God, he was mad at Jonathan. He knew he was being irrational, but he couldn't help feeling like Jonathan was to blame for all of this somehow, he just hadn't figured out how yet. And Jonathan's yelling at him hadn't helped either. Exasperated, Brian threw his coat over a chair in the living room and walked down the hall to his bedroom. 

He stretched out on his bed and tried not to think, tried to just clear his mind of everything, but it didn't work. All he could think about was Sally. He kept remembering things--little things, like the way her hand felt in his, and how she always took all of the covers in bed. The first time they had kissed...the day they had spent walking in the park and eating ice cream...him sneaking backstage at the Club just to surprise her...everything.

Brian thought back to the day at the train station...he had seen Jonathan first, and he remembered wondering why he was carrying so many suitcases, certainly he had more than he left with. And then he had seen her. Sally, walking alongside Jonathan with her arm hooked through his, looking just as radiant as ever in that black mink coat. That coat...she had been wearing that coat the day she had come to talk to him. Why hadn't he suspected something was wrong that day...she had looked awful; pale and thin and worn. He had been too angry to pay any attention, but in retrospect he realized he should have noticed something, anything. Maybe then he wouldn't have yelled at her, wouldn't have said such awful things. Not like it mattered anyway. Nothing could have saved her. Not Brian, not Jonathan, not anything or anyone.

Brian could not think of a valid reason for why he was so angry with Jonathan, but he knew that he definitely was. He sat up and reached for the phone with the intent to call and apologize, but quickly put it down. What exactly was he going to apologize for? For loving Sally so much that he couldn't help but wish that Jonathan had never met her? He didn't have anything to say to Jonathan anymore. He said that Sally wanted them to be friends...that could never happen again. Not in Brian's opinion, anyway. He felt terrible about it, because he didn't want to go against what had been Sally's last wishes, but...it just was not possible. They would never be able to trust each other again, not after all that had happened between them.

********

Jonathan was sitting outside of Sally's room—well, the room that Sally's body was in—leaning against the door. He realized he didn't have anyone anymore, and he cried—he cried for Sally, he cried for Brian, he cried for himself. Sally's dying request would never be met; Jonathan and Brian would probably never even speak again. She would have been so mad at them for being so immature, for fighting over her like schoolboys. But that was what it had come down to, them fighting over her and Brian had finally just given up. Jonathan wanted nothing more than to work things out, to forgive and forget and to give their friendship a second chance, but he knew Brian would never stoop to that. He was too angry, too proud to admit he was being childish. They both were. Jonathan knew that and was willing to just let it go. 

He looked at the clock on the wall across from him. Nearly four in the morning. He might as well forget about trying to get any sleep now; the doctor was coming for Sally's body in a few hours anyway. Jonathan stood up and put his hand on the doorknob. He hadn't been in the room yet, but he knew it couldn't be avoided. He needed to see her. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned the knob. He stood there with the door open, closing his eyes, not able to bring himself to either walk into the room or to look at her. A few minutes passed, and then he opened his eyes. He realized he was shaking as he walked toward the bed, averting his eyes from the tiny figure lying there. When he was about two feet away, he forced himself to look at her. 

"Sally…" Her name escaped his lips without him even realizing that he had said anything. She was lying there exactly as she had been when he had left the room that last time, telling her he would be back and that he loved her…except now, her eyes were closed forever. He knelt at the side of the bed, unable to do anything else, and placed his hand on top of hers. Her hand was cold…so cold. Jonathan kept watching her face, half-expecting her to open her eyes and say his name. He took his hand away and sank down to the floor in a crumpled heap, crying. He had reached his limit; he didn't know what to do anymore. The woman he loved was dead, his best friend had deserted him. There was nothing he could do about Sally, he knew that, but he could do something about the situation with Brian. Brian, however, would not concede to trying to resolve anything, and Jonathan found himself at a standstill. He kept telling himself that Sally would have wanted him to move on, but how could he move on when he literally couldn't lift himself up off the floor? 

He lay there for the next few hours, unable to do anything but think and cry. At seven o'clock, Jonathan forced himself to get up and at least change clothes. Doctor Warren would be coming to pick up Sally soon…


	12. chapter 12

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Disclaimer : Notttttttt miiiiineeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. As usual. 

Jonathan walked back down the hall to his bedroom. He got a brown sweater and a pair of khaki pants from his closet and quickly changed clothes. As he was leaving the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the door. He stepped back and studied his reflection, remembering that the sweater he was wearing was the one Sally had picked out when they had gone shopping a few weeks ago. "You're so handsome, darling," she had told him. She had been fine then. Happy and healthy and…well, she hadn't really ever been healthy. But they had been able to be together, content and in love. Jonathan didn't know if he could ever be that happy again. He couldn't imagine ever meeting anyone who could compare with Sally…

He went into the bathroom to wash his face, but stopped short when he saw Sally's makeup still sitting there on the sink. Her eyeshadow and her lipstick…God, she had more lipstick than he had ever seen. And her perfume, that sugary vanilla scent that on anyone else would have smelled too strong and too sweet but on Sally had been just right. Jonathan just stood there for a minute, looking at the tubes of lipstick and palettes of eyeshadow and rouge she had left behind…and that bottle of vanilla perfume. He remembered that when they had been traveling from Berlin, that was the one thing Sally had worried about breaking. 

"Sally, it's safe in my bag, I promise," he had told her. "If it breaks, I'll buy you three new bottles of whatever perfume you want."

"Well, yes, darling, but if that bottle breaks, all of your clothes are going to smell like that perfume forever!" She had said it so urgently, like it would have been the greatest tragedy in the world, and to her it probably was. He hadn't been able to stop himself from chuckling at her ingenuity. 

"Jonathan! It isn't funny!" 

"Sally, it's all right, really."

She pouted jokingly and crossed her arms. "Fine," she had said. "But don't blame me if your clothes get ruined." She had pretended to pout at him for a few more minutes, and he just looked into her eyes until she finally smiled and they both burst out laughing.

Jonathan caught himself smiling in the mirror. They'd had so much fun that day, laughing and talking on the train, but then Sally had gotten quiet. Jonathan had reached over and gently placed his hand upon hers. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, darling," she had replied weakly. "Just tired."

"You're sure that's all?" he had asked.

She nodded. "I just need to sleep for a little bit."

He had dismissed it then, but now he wished he had thought something of it. It wouldn't have mattered though, it just…it wouldn't have made any difference.

Jonathan washed his face in the sink and started to put Sally's makeup in the cabinet overhead, but couldn't bring himself to move it. Because then…then she really would be gone. If he left it there, he would see it every morning and every morning he would expect to go into her room and still find her lying there sleeping. And he would bring her breakfast in bed and they would lie together forever, just like always. Only now, he would go into that room every morning and find everything that had been hers-all her clothes and shoes and the coat he had bought her-everything neatly in place, but no Sally. Like she had gone on vacation and all of those things were just waiting patiently for her to return. Jonathan knew he would always be waiting too, always secretly hoping that somehow she would just magically show up at the door one day and they would pick up right where they left off. 

He couldn't help but wonder what might have been...He and Sally probably would have gotten married. They would have moved to the city and kept the country house for the weekends. Jonathan quickly abandoned the thought; it was a lost cause now. Numbly, he walked back down the hall to her room and tried to avoid looking at her as he pulled the door closed. He sank down against the door, sitting on the floor in the hallway. What is Brian doing right now...Probably the same thing I'm doing, Jonathan thought. Crying, missing Sally, remembering things they had shared...Brian certainly did have him beat in that area. Even though he hated to admit it, Jonathan envied Brian for all the time he had spent with Sally in Berlin. Jonathan had only been with her for a month, counting the time she had been sick. They had one perfect week together--exactly one week--and then everything had come crashing down.

Jonathan thought about what might have happened if Sally had not come back to London with him. He would have stayed for a few more days and then gone back home. They never would have seen each other again. Sally would have died alone, and Brian and Jonathan never would have known she was sick to begin with. They would have just gone on with life, gone on thinking that Sally was alive and well back in Berlin. Gone on with life...Jonathan was having trouble imagining going on with life now...now that she was gone.

He went into his bedroom and shakily dialed Brian's number. Come on Brian, he thought, I know you're there...


End file.
